


Weather Man

by longhairshortfuse



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is a bit of an asshole, Cecil is a secret agent, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-19 07:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3601851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairshortfuse/pseuds/longhairshortfuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Funny how so many things get resolved just after Cecil announces the <i>WEATHER.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Peters, you know the farmer? calls in a report that the pretty glowing cloud, the one that has been entertaining him for a while by cycling through the spectrum and dropping small animal remains on unsuspecting pedestrians, is increasing in size and dropping dangerously large carcasses.
> 
> Just before Cecil announces the weather.

Cecil thought about what the scientist had said two weeks ago at his public meeting. Time isn't real, clocks don't work, the sunset was ten minutes late. He smiled as he constructed a mental picture of the man with perfect hair, a smile showing straight, perfectly even white teeth, a strong jaw, a very scientific looking lab coat, deep brown eyes that might meet his own and a voice that might say... _Hey Cecil, my teeth are straight but I’m gay, want to have dinner with me?_  
He sat up in his chair. It was all very well falling in lust instantly but in the two weeks since the public gathering and Carlos's visit to the station, he had not had any real contact with the perfect scientist. He sighed, adjusted the position of his script, coffee cup and microphone, leaned his elbows on his desk and spoke.

During the recorded messages, Cecil relaxed back in his swivel chair and slurped coffee. He allowed himself the luxury of a forty second fantasy involving an interview with a handsome scientist who would steer the question topic round to weekend plans, maybe bowling. Oh if he enjoyed bowling, that would be _perfect_. Even better, if he wanted to learn Cecil could volunteer to coach him privately and…  
The intern’s voice cut through his daydream.  
“Cecil! Ten! Nine!”  
He looked up to see the rest of the countdown done with hand gestures at the window between his booth and the adjacent producer’s booth. Cecil scanned his notes. A glowing cloud. Huh. He’d heard of odder things in Night Vale. He wondered if it was pretty and if he should go see it. Maybe the scientist would be there, investigating. Carlos. Mmhmm, Carlos. _The most scientifically interesting community in the—_  
“Cecil!” He smiled and waved at the panicking intern. Time wasn’t real so there was no rush, right?  
“The City Council, in cooperation with government agents…”  
Ugh. He let his mind wander a little whilst reading the announcements. Trouble is it kept wandering back to the same scientist.

 _Okay Palmer, get a grip. It’s a crush. You can’t let something so personal affect your journalistic integrity, your professionalism, your calm soothing voice._  
Cecil forced his mind back into what he perceived to be the present. An intern opened the door quietly, slipped a sheet of paper in front of Cecil and retreated. Cecil glanced at it and scowled.  
“New call in from John Peters, you know the farmer…”  
The glowcloud rained down animal carcasses over Old Town, swelled and stretched and extended its influence across the whole community. Little League games were unaffected but considerably more hazardous than usual as larger beasts plopped down on top of the protective awnings, and his favourite ice cream shop had trouble with a dead lion on the roof. Cecil felt faint, distant, as he found himself chanting All Hail. With his last conscious action, he announced the weather, flicked a switch and pushed up the sliders on his sound board.

And woke up.

Cecil set the weather on loop and ran out of his booth. Interns flattened themselves against the walls of the corridor as he hurtled past, shrugging their shoulders at each other when he was clear of the building. Old Town wasn't far, not worth going back for his car keys. He slowed his run to a sedate jog that wouldn't drain his energy and headed for the pulsating centre of the glowing shape in the sky.  
The closer he got, the harder it became to dodge the unusually macabre rain. He pushed an unwary citizen out of the path of a three-pound rabbit at terminal velocity, flappy ears and flashing tail hit the ground and _ugh_. The citizen swore and shoved Cecil back, staggered on a few steps only to succumb to the onslaught of an entire colony of prairie dogs dropped from five hundred feet.  
Cecil ran close to the shelter of buildings. Streets in Old Town were narrower, the buildings lower with more recesses and cramped alleyways between buildings to provide refuge. He sensed a shadow before he saw the cause and dived into a doorway as something that used to be a... Cecil couldn't tell from the mangle of grey fur. _Jeez, falling from a height is nasty!_  
As he reached the spot under the hub of the glowcloud, Cecil realised the falling carcasses were not random. They were being aimed. At him.

He took shelter best he could whilst remaining within shouting distance of the presence above. A few people huddled inside the dumpster he chose to hide behind. The green plastic domed lid thumped and creaked as yet another Herdwick landed and bounced off, cushioned only by its fleece.  
Cecil realised he had absolutely no idea how to communicate with a cloud. He did what any sane, rational, intelligent person in full control of their own actions might have done, if all sense had left them, and ran out directly under the glowcloud. He raised his head and raised his voice.  
**"HEY YOU UP THERE! YES YOU! CLOUD-FACE!"**  
_**YOU DARE TO ADDRESS ME?**_  
**"Now I have your attention, please stop dropping dead animals-- HEY! NOT COOL!"**  
Cecil jumped aside as a kangaroo landed heavily enough to make the dirt road shudder.  
_**WORSHIP ME! I DEMAND YOUR WORSHIP!**_  
Cecil laughed. **"Is that all? You want people to worship you and then you will stop?"**  
_**MAKE ME YOUR BELOVED LEADER AND I WILL ONLY GIVE OCCASIONAL BOUNTEOUS GIFTS. DO YOU NOT APPRECIATE THE BOUNTY YOU HAVE RECEIVED FROM MY GENEROSITY AND WORSHIP MY EXISTENCE?**_  
**"I see your problem, glowing cloud, if you want worship I can help make that happen but your _BOUNTEOUS GIFT_ is our terror from the sky. Also, it's kinda gross. Are you expecting us to... um... eat these?"** Cecil pointed at the mangled corpses strewn over the road. **"I mean, we have food hygiene laws and--"**  
_**ENOUGH! WE DEMAND WORSHIP! AND A POSITION OF AUTHORITY WITHIN YOUR COMMUNITY.**_  
Cecil scratched his head and rubbed his neck. **"We-e-ell, the presidency of the school board is coming up soon and old wossname wanted to retire so I guess you'd be a good replacement."**  
_**PRESIDENT? THAT WOULD BE AN ACCEPTABLE ACCOLADE. MAKE IT HAPPEN. AND WORSHIP ME!**_  
**"Fine. ALL HAIL. That good enough for now?"**  
Cecil watched as the glowcloud folded in on itself and blew off to the East in a sky with no wind.

When Cecil returned to his booth, the music was still looping. Intern Chad appeared mesmerized by the beat, reclined in his chair chanting something about the unreliability of public transport schedules. Cecil carefully faded the music down and spoke in his most persuasive voice.  
_Listeners, all hail the glowcloud. All hail. All hail. All hail._  
In the booth next door, Chad changed his chant. Cecil smiled and slumped.

"Wha-a?"  
"CECIL!"  
"Ungh?"  
"How long has that song been on loop? Jeez, Cecil, I think time stood still. Count you in?"  
Cecil shook awake. "Ugh, Chad, let it play and bring me coffee and the tapes from the earlier part of the show. I need to remind myself of whatever it is I was talking about before I finish the show."  
Chad nodded and scurried off. He returned a couple of minutes later with coffee and a frown.  
"Coffee, black, one sugar. Tapes, wiped and smell like ice cream. Here, check for yourself."  
Cecil sipped coffee, _aah_ -ed in appreciation and held a cassette tape to his nose. "Mmm, yes, vanilla. Chad, remind me, why did I want these?" Chad shrugged and settled back into the relative safety of his booth.

Cecil leaned forward and signalled Chad. Chad began a countdown.  
"Sorry, Listeners. Not sure what happened in that earlier section...  
He finished the show, signed off with a sincere _goodnight_ and flopped back in his chair. Chad came in to help tidy up.  
"Cecil? What's that?"  
"What's what?"  
The teenager pointed. "That. On your clothes."  
Cecil looked down at his leg. The grey fabric was spattered with brown.  
"Ugh. I have no idea. Probably coffee. Hope it washes out!"


	2. Reign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Station Management threatens to cancel Cecil.  
> He can't allow that!

Cecil stared at the letter in his hand.  
_Ugh, this time of year again? Already?_  
He studied the phrasing carefully, searching for missed meaning, reading between the lines, under the lines, hoping for invisible lines to appear and reassure him that his contract was safe. His job, his lifeline.  
_I can’t very well impress Lovely Carlos if I’m unemployed! Jeez, “Wanna go on a date? Wanna pay?” Nope. No, no, nope._  
Cecil sighed and folded the letter away into a pocket. Intern Chad waved at him.  
“Cecil? Station Management want to see you after your show today.”  
Cecil nodded and shivered. _Ugh, I hate those guys!_

Cecil scowled at the paper in front of him. Intern Chad cowered. "Well, I suppose I can't shoot the messenger. Have you any idea what is happening to journalistic integrity in this community? No? Huh. Can you read? Can the rest of the interns read? What about your friends at college?"  
Chad backed up until he hit the wall of the corridor outside, mumbled that as far as he knew all of his friends were competent readers, and ran off to the sanctuary of the break room memorial garden.  
Cecil still glowered at the news that the only remaining independent print newspaper in town was reducing from a daily to a weekly. Leann would be upset. Cecil had a momentary vision of Leann Hart, publishing editor of the Night Vale Daily Journal, sharpening her entire hatchet collection. It cheered him up to think of his friend and fellow journalist being occupied with one of her favourite pastimes.  
He called his intern back.  
"Chad, you want interview experience? Go interview Leann Hart. Ask her about the impact of other news media, you know, internet bloggers, radio news programmes. That sort of thing. You run a blog, don't you? I bet she'd be real interested."  
Chad's face fell.  
"I'm sorry Cecil, Station Management said I was not allowed to conduct interviews after I asked that person out back why they were standing perfectly still holding a sign that said _I am not the tree you are looking for. Move along. Move along._ I only wanted them to move a few feet to the left so they could be a goalpost for the NVCR five-a-side soccer tournament. You in the broadcasters' team?"  
"Chad, do I look like I play with balls?" Chad clamped his mouth shut. Cecil leafed through his show notes. "In that case can you go check out the new discount sporting goods store? Go buy something and write a product review."  
"What, like a tennis racquet or something?" Chad grinned. "Is station management thinking of taking up my sports show, _Score With Chad_?" Cecil shrugged and waved his hand, Chad disappeared.

Cecil read the letter from Station Management one more time. He walked along the admin corridor to the office where strange shapes flitted across the frosted glass panel and the fake door handle occasionally administered electric shocks. He only turned back once but bolstered his courage with thoughts of Carlos. _Come on, Cecil! What if you were being observed as part of a scientific study? Would Carlos be impressed that you are afraid of speaking to your employer?_  
Cecil raised a hand to knock on the door. Before his knuckles contacted wood, an envelope shot out on a cloud of smoke from the gap below the door and hit his foot. It was addressed to him. He frowned at the envelope and turned away from the door.  
Back in his studio, Cecil turned on his broadcast equipment and prepared for his show. He fingered the new letter in his pocket without registering the action. Cecil snatched the envelope back out of his pocket and opened it. There was a brief note inside.  
_You are in danger of cancellation._

During the short break before his show, Cecil checked his phone, just in case Lovely Carlos had called, but the only message was from Josie. He smiled, it was probably about bowling. Best to be sure, though. Cecil called her back.  
"Hi Josie, it's only me."  
"No! Are you sure it was him?"  
"You saw the strong jaw and the teeth like a... Oh. A lab coat. Huh."  
"Is it bad? Real bad?"  
"Yeah. Telly needs to drink less for lunch or shut up shop in the afternoon. Thanks for telling me, I'm glad you're looking out for him like that. It can't be easy being an interloper."  
"Ooh yes! League night, can't wait! Hey, do you think Carlos likes bowling? Should I go round there and suggest..."  
"Okay! Okay. Bye."

Somehow, despite the creeping fear, Cecil got through most of his script. The message from Station Management filtered through to his consciousness eventually and gave him an idea. They couldn't cancel a popular show, right? He frowned at the idea in his head, he knew it was wrong to act on a whim, to seek popularity was beneath the dignity of a professional radio presenter. Cecil clasped the base of his microphone stand tight and leaned in.  
_Listeners? It is not often I ask for favours, but..._  
After his appeal, he switched to a recorded message and sat back to indulge second thoughts. Someone in the corridor was shouting.

As he listened, Cecil realised. Listeners were responding! His show mattered to Night Vale, _Cecil_ mattered to Night Vale!  
Cecil could not allow his show to be replaced. After all, if he didn't do it, who would broadcast the weather?

Cecil leapt up and marched along the corridor to the office of Station Management. He raised his hand as if to knock on the door, but instead pushed the door hard. It did not open. Pulling didn't work either. Cecil thumped the heel of his hand on the glass panel, making it rattle. More noise came from inside the office in response to his attack. Passing interns scuttled back down the corridor to the relative safety of the break room but Cecil was not warned off.  
He stood back. There was not enough space for a proper run up, but there was a plastic molded chair beside the door. He lifted it, aimed the tubular chrome legs toward the glass and thrust it forwards. The chair jarred in his hands as he repeatedly assaulted the frosted glass panel until his arms ached. In frustration, Cecil hefted the chair one more time and bellowed a curse at it as he powered it forward with all his strength.  
The glass cracked and broke, leaving the chair embedded in the door. Cecil pulled it out and the glass fell on the floor by his feet. He reached through, feeling for the door handle inside, and opened the office of Station Management with a soft click.  
He stepped inside.

Cecil squinted in the inky darkness. "Hell-o-o?" His voice betrayed him, no longer so confident. Voices hissed at him.  
_"How dare you disturb us! We're BUSY!"_  
"Well, I guess since I'm here. I'm the reigning _Voice of Nightvale_ and..."  
_"You are more trouble than you are worth."_  
"Oh, come on! That's hardly fair! I am a popular and respected radio presenter and you shou--""  
_"We should have killed you off by now for your cheek!"_  
Cecil gasped, a sharp intake of breath. "You... you can't! You can't replace me on my own show! I'm the _voice!_ You know, _THE_ voice." Cecil paused before adding in decreasing pitch, "Of Nightvale!"  
_"Nobody is irreplaceable, Cecil. We know who you are, we made you what you are and sometimes we regret it. My colleague and I were discussing whether a series of guest presenters might work. It's a departure from the format we anticipated but..."_  
Cecil felt weak. "No! No, you can't... Please, the show is my life!"  
_"We know, Cecil, we made you that way. Now get back to your microphone and finish your show. We will find you later to settle this. One way or the other. And you'll pay for that door."_  
Cecil backed out of the office and ran to his studio. He grabbed the microphone, unclipped it from its stand and slid under his desk.  
Inside the office, one station manager turned to the other. _"I kinda like him really. Maybe we should be kinder. Let him have that scientist for a friend or something."_  
The other replied. _"Maybe we could, interacting would give him a way of showing more personality. Oh hey... I have a much better idea... we let him have the scientist as a boyfriend and then..."_

"Hello radio audience..."  
Cecil cowered under his desk to finish his show, simultaneously planning a rapid escape. _They can't get rid of me if they can't find me, right?_  
As soon as he finished his last _goodnight_ he switched off his broadcast desk and ran for the door.

He made it.


	3. Freeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil decides to record the PTA meeting and prepare his show in advance.  
> Wouldn't it be nice to run into a certain scientist? Accidentally, of course.  
> Things do not go to plan.

"Hey Cecil buddy, it's the PTA meeting tonight. You need a ride? Only Janice said your car--"  
Cecil cut off the caller. "Ste-e-eve! No! No, I do not need to be escorted to the PTA meeting. Thank you. I am perfectly capable of getting there under my own steam."  
"O-o-oh-kay, buddy! Just being brotherly, brother. See ya Cecil!"  
The phone clicked into silence and the buzz of a cut off call. Cecil raised his arm to throw it across the room but changed his mind just in time, instead lobbing the expensive electronics onto the sofa. Now, if _Carlos_ called to offer him a ride... Mmhmmhmm. That would be a _very_ different conversation.  
Cecil allowed himself a momentary fantasy about how that might go then sighed. Perhaps he should call Steve back. It wasn't Steve's fault that his neighbours kept him awake with their chanting at one in the morning. No!, No, he thought. Steve might not have deserved that telling off exactly, but he was still a jerk. Jeez, bet he brings scones again.  
Ugh. He was going to have to walk to work.

Cecil packed his outside broadcast kit, consisting of a shoulder bag to hold a recording machine and a portable microphone. He checked the green light stayed on and didn't flash. Fully charged. The rec centre where the meeting was to be held wasn't too far away, he could go there, set up and double back to the studio in time to check the remote broadcast feed worked if he abandoned his third coffee and set off now.  
Even better, his route options included going past Big Rico's, right next to the lab. Carlos's lab.  
Cecil smiled, smoothed down his hair, checked his outfit matched, spent a few seconds torn between changing his shirt and leaving in time to allow the possibility of bumping into Lovely Carlos. Cecil grinned and left the house.  
Conversations ran through his head all the way into town. _Oh, hello, Carlos. Is that your lab? Are you going to invite me in to see all those humming electricals? Oh I'd love to watch you do some science. Mmhmmhmm, look at you so hard at work. You have published your work in journals? Oooh those are forbidden! Can I read one? You keep them in your bedroom? Sure I'd love to come right up..._  
A horn blast jolted Cecil out of his fantasy. The car pulled up and reversed back to him. The passenger door opened.  
"Hey buddy! What a coincidence. Hop in!"  
"Ste-e-eve you almost killed me you je--"  
"Hi Uncle Cecil! You going to work? Dad made scones. Want one?"  
Cecil softened. "Hi Janice, sweetheart!" He got in the car and glared at the driver.

Steve drove Cecil to the rec centre, set up tables for the PTA meeting while Cecil set up his microphone, and offered to drive him to the radio station. Cecil refused politely since Janice was within earshot, racing up and down the corridor, trying to catch some air at the single semi-ramped step. Cecil waved goodbye and set off walking. He still had time to walk past Carlos's lab.  
He didn't need to. On his way along the street just outside Cecil looked up from his daydreams to see the object of his fantasy approaching from the other side of the road.  
The professional broadcaster, the man who earned a living with words, stared at the scientist's unevenly-shorn hair and could think of nothing to say. Carlos smiled and Cecil melted.  
"Hello, it's Cecil, isn't it? From the radio?"  
"Uh... yes."  
"I'm going to the rec centre. Time is being real weird around here. Have you noticed anything strange?"  
"Uh... um..."  
"We could maybe talk about it sometime?" Cecil blinked at last, comprehending Carlos's words too late to react. "Oh, I guess you're busy right now." The scientist shrugged. "Me too. Things to measure. Well, goodbye for now."  
And with another flash of a perfect smile that crinkled the edges of deep tourmaline eyes, Lovely Carlos was gone.

Cecil cursed himself all the way to the radio station. _I could've said something real NEAT! No, no not that, I could have been smart, witty but no, I fucking froze! Shit, he probably thinks I'm a stupid asshole or rude or both. Ugh, get a grip, man!_  
By the time he arrived at his booth, Cecil had convinced himself that Carlos was laughing at him. He went to the men's room to talk to Khoshekh. Khoshekh always welcomed Cecil with a hiss and only a little spit of venom, calmed him and never offered advice. Maybe it was something in the venom.

Cecil started recording his show. It was a secret he shared with his intern, whoever that happened to be, that if he wanted a day off and news was slack, he would record as much as possible the night before. Station Management rarely checked that he was actually present in his studio during his show.  
Cecil read over his script and called for coffee. An intern arrived with a mug of something frothy. Cecil eyed it with suspicion. The intern fidgeted.  
"Is it wrong? Sorry sir, I can make another for you. I'm new."  
Cecil, still under the influence of whatever Khoshekh secreted from his venom sacs, relaxed. "Oh, okay. This will do but next time make it plain. You can call me Cecil. What's your name?"  
The intern's shoulders dropped an inch or two making him look instantly taller and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Leland. I just started today." Cecil closed his eyes and downed a gulp of too-sweet, too-creamy coffee.  
"Welcome, Leland, I want you to sit in the producer's booth and monitor the outside broadcast feed from the PTA meeting. I want to know if the scientist does anything cute."

It was more than cute. Cecil interrupted his recording to listen as Carlos ranted about time and ran from the rec centre. Cecil grinned with glee, murmured _oh so adorable!_ but lacked the confidence to intercept the scientist and interrupt Carlos's important work with something as inconsequential as a garbled invitation for dinner or a weekend bowling game.  
Cecil continued to listen, gradually becoming aware that he and Leland were not the only beings in the studio. Cecil frowned and pointed, listening as Leland fumbled a switch and spoke electronically into his ears.  
"I don't know what the hooded figure wants. It wandered in this morning while I sorted out my security pass and just kinda wandered around until it came in here. It wasn't in the way or anything so we just left it there in the corner of your studio. Nobody expected you to come in today and we thought it would get bored and go away. Huh, guess we were wrong. Want me to get security to come shoo it out?"  
Cecil shook his head. "No, I recognise an opportunity when I see one, Leland." He pointed the second microphone at the hooded figure. "How are you doin' today?"  
The figure did not move. A burst of interference noise hit Cecil's left ear while his right still listened to the audio feed from the rec centre. Steve was mouthing off about something, the jerk. Cecil tried aiming few more questions and a smile at the hooded figure with no acknowledgement. Just as he understood that Steve was shouting something about a pterodactyl swooping down on an interloper in a lab-coat, Cecil announced the weather.

Cecil raced out of the studio, leaving Intern Leland to tidy up and coax the hooded figure out of the safety of its dark corner. He ran for the rec centre, the last place he knew Carlos had been, but the scientist was not there. Cecil did the next best thing. He grabbed Steve by both lapels of his stupid checked sports jacket and shook him. Steve grabbed Cecil's arms in self defence.  
"Whoa buddy!" Eyed wide but smiling through the pain. "Good to see you too!"  
Cecil growled in reply. "Where. Is. Carlos! Where did the scientist go? Night Vale needs him!"  
"Hold on, hold on Cecil, let me go and... see? That's better. I can, hah! talk now my teeth aren't rattling in my skull! The guy with the kinda goofy haircut?" Cecil growled again. "Just messin' with ya. He ran off toward the Dog Park, saying he'd lure it there. Y'know, better place for a prehistoric animal to stretch its wings and... Cecil? Bro?"  
But Cecil turned and ran. He grabbed the only thing he could think of to use as a weapon, the only comforting, familiar object in the room, his portable outside broadcast kit complete with microphone on its telescopic stand.

The Dog Park was not far away. Cecil slowed to a jog to preserve energy but sprinted when he caught sight of a man in a mostly-white lab coat trying to fend off a swooping dinosaur. It went at the scientist with talons and a serrated, sword-like beak.  
Carlos fell.  
Cecil screamed at the flying terror. It left its prey on the warm tarmac by the Dog Park wall and flapped up for an attack on the new creature that threatened it. As the pterodactyl triangulated for a swoop, Cecil extended the microphone stand with a swift _thunk_ and checked the microphone was attached securely. He planted his feet wide, bent knees and got ready to swing. The pterodactyl dived. It was fast, but Cecil's aim was good. Or lucky. The microphone contacted the dinosaur's head with a _crack!_ and the predator tumbled forward under its own momentum, rolling to rest stretched out in the road.  
Cecil dropped his weapon and ran over to Carlos. The scientist was breathing. He bore a few grazes and scratches but was not badly injured. Cecil ran his hands over Carlos's arms and legs to check for broken bones, twice just to be sure, then sat back to wait for him to regain consciousness.

After about a minute, an unmarked truck drove over the remains of the pterodactyl and skidded to a halt. Two people in black suits got out. One stood watch while the other crouched level with Cecil.  
"Would you please come with us, Mr Palmer?"  
Cecil shook his head and gripped Carlos's hand tighter. "I must look after our best scientist."  
The figure sighed. "I promise we are just going to take him home and take care of him."  
Cecil positioned himself in front of the unconscious man. "Do you mean _take care of him_ or _take **care** of him?_ There's a difference, you know."  
The figure stood and shuffled, glanced at its companion. "Listen, Mr Palmer, we mean no harm to come to your scientist. We will take him to his lab and see that he is safe. Then we will take you home."  
"Oh. Well, I suppose..."  
Cecil stood up and helped the suited figure to put Carlos into the cabin. The other man shovelled what remained of the pterodactyl into the back. Cecil sniggered as he heard _Eww gross! I got dinosaur-goo on my shoes."_

Cecil witnessed the two black-suited figures put Carlos on a sofa at the back of the lab. He looked around, fascinated by the glassware and bottles, colourless and blue and brown, and reached out to touch. A warm hand gripped his arm. It prickled his skin.  
"Don't touch. It complicates things. Okay, he's fine, he'll wake up when he's ready. Probably won't remember much. Let's get you home safe too, Mr Palmer!" _Was that a smile?_ Cecil wondered. But he couldn't see behind the sunglasses.  
Cecil, suddenly tired, allowed himself to be led back to the truck. He lay in the warm space Carlos had so recently occupied and drifted off to sleep.

Cecil woke up at home with his alarm clock buzzing. He felt sticky and muzzy-headed as he staggered toward the shower. Cecil stood, eyes closed, letting the trickle of warm water wash the night away. _Ugh, I can't remember the last time I fell asleep in my clothes. Did I drink? Feels like it. Ugh. Idiot, Palmer! Should know better!_  
Shower off as guilt pangs hit about the waste of water, Cecil towel dried then air dried then dressed in clean clothes. He made coffee, downed a glass of water and frowned at the lack of bottles in the recycling bin. _Did I go out? Who with? Not that cute new intern, too young to get served alcohol probably. Not Earl, Earl would have stopped me from getting so drunk. Carlos? Oh no, no please no._  
Cecil tried to remember. He knew he had recorded most of his show, there was something about having made a fool of himself in front of Lovely Carlos but that might have happened any time, and then... nothing. Waking up at home. _Ugh. Maybe that new intern knows what happened._  
Cecil drank coffee and felt better. His car sat by the kerb but since he had no memory of how much alcohol or _whatever_ he had consumed, or when he stopped, Cecil chose to walk to work.

He felt better by the time he arrived. Cecil checked how much material he had recorded the previous evening. It was quite a lot but by the time he cut and spliced segments together it was not enough for a full show. Maybe up to and including the...  
"Hi Cecil, got your coffee right today." Leland breezed into the little studio.  
Cecil smiled. "Thanks. Umm, Leland," Cecil frowned. "What happened last night, you know, after I stopped recording here?"  
Leland laughed. "Oh, I persuaded the hooded figure out of your studio. Turned out all he wanted was some merchandise but he got lost and panicked. Sean looked after him, sold him a teeshirt and gave him a free coaster."  
"No, I mean, what did _I_ do after I left here?"  
"Oh! Umm, you played the...," Leland flicked his eyes left and right, wondering how serious it would be to mention the _w-word_ after Station Management so clearly told him not to, "thing... then you ran off. There's a little more recorded material from the live audio feed, if you want to listen?"  
Cecil nodded. "Yes, I think I should."  
But the sequence of panting, groaning and thumping sounds did not help, although the part where he yelled at Steve was entertaining.

Leland found Cecil back at his broadcast desk preparing to record the end of his show.  
"Did I catch you in time, Cecil? Only there's a police update on news from the PTA meeting. Here." Leland slapped a sheet of paper in front of Cecil. Cecil read it and finished recording his show.  
He sat back, leaned forward again to schedule playback and went to see Khoshekh.  
_Hey li'l buddy, you want more food? Here ya' go sweetheart. Ugh, what am I going to do about Carlos? I want to call, make sure he's okay but... ugh. What if he thinks I'm a fool? Whaddaya think, kitty, should I call him?_  
Khoshekh merely extended a paw and touched Cecil gently on the face before rolling over in mid-air to see if the tummy-trap would work this time.


	4. Drought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are strange lights, awkward meetings, a mysterious pyramid, and an intern with a crush but a very inappropriate way of showing his feelings.
> 
> Cecil has to fix it.  
> When he is under the weather, of course.

Cecil almost squeaked. "He called, he actually called! In person! Carlos needs me! for _science!"_ Khoshekh was unmoved. He opened one eye at a time, winked and blinked and stretched. "Oh you're such a cutie-pie, aren't you, baby-boy?" Khoshekh yawned, causing Cecil to step back and duck slightly, just in case. "I'll be back real soon. How about if I send an intern to play with you? Brad, maybe? Hmm? See ya later, kitty!"  
Khoshekh watched the door close softly and returned his attention to the dribble from the tap. If he concentrated real hard he could make the water steam and hiss. 

Cecil coughed gently, swallowed hard, straightened his tie and went into his booth. Intern Brad was lurking outside in the corridor. Cecil caught his eye. "Brad? Great! Can you go feed Khoshekh and change his litter?" Brad nodded and sloped off to the men's room. Cecil entered his little studio. Carlos perched on his special swivel chair, the one Cecil didn't let the interns sit on, and studied the controls on the desk. Carlos sat on his hands.  
"I can show you how those work, if you like?" Cecil arranged his face from terror into what he hoped was a smile. Carlos whipped his head round and stood up He fiddled with things in his lab-coat pockets.  
"Sorry, I was just curious. It's one thing every scientist is." Carlos smiled and gave a little nervous shrug. "Maybe not the first thing, but it's pretty high up the list. A scientist is curious."  
Cecil's smile broadened. "Mmm you certainly are. Curious." He reddened and his grin widened into a grimace. "I mean, not, umm, I didn't mean..."  
Carlos stepped back. "Uh, okay, I only came to ask about the lights."  
Cecil frowned up at the fluorescent tubes set in the ceiling. "Huh, they look okay to me."  
Carlos laughed. "Oh. I see. No, I meant the lights out at Radon Canyon. Last night. There were lights and strange noises. I wondered if you knew what they were." The scientist was serious now. "In case, you know, in case they are a danger. My danger meter went right off the scale! Through red and into infra-red." Carlos shook his head slowly, Cecil watched the curls on top of his head wave from side to side. Carlos made a flicker of eye contact before he studied the knobs and sliders on the desk again. "It was really _hot,_ you know? That is never a good sign. I am a little scared for us."  
Cecil sighed. "I don't know what the lights were but I probably have listeners who do. I could ask and get back to you?" Carlos brightened and nodded. Cecil smiled and emitted a little laugh. _Worth a try!_ "Hah! Stay for an interview then after maybe we could discuss the lights further over di--"  
But Lovely Carlos was already halfway out of the studio. "Gee, thanks Cecil! Maybe call me if you hear anything?"  
Cecil did not hear Carlos, under his breath, add _or if you don't._

Brad returned from petting Khoshekh with a bandage on his hand. Cecil jumped up and led him into the booth, sat him on the edge of the desk. He raised a hand as if to pat Brad's uninjured arm, but stopped.  
"Are you okay? Did he... did he _bite_ you? Hard?"  
Brad laughed. "What, this? No, just a scratch really. I'm real good in wood-shop so I made him a litter box on a stand, easier for him to reach. I cut myself with the bandsaw. Lost a finger but not one of the real important ones."  
Cecil sighed and sat back. "Well, as long as you're okay. Can you still operate the coffee machine?"  
Brad shrugged. "I think so." He stared at his bandage and smiled. "That scientist who was here earlier? He came to college last week to talk about... I dunno, some science stuff. He's real cute! I wanted to talk to him while you were busy but he seemed kinda distant. Is it weird?" Brad held eye contact with Cecil and frowned a little. "I mean, he must be, like, almost as old as you I guess." He slid off the desk. "Huh. I'll fetch your coffee."  
Brad left the studio. Cecil scowled at his back. 

Cecil did not drink the sugary confection Brad brought for him but he did ask his listeners about the lights and called Carlos back during a pre-recorded message from the sponsor, only to be faced with voicemail. He was reasonably happy with his third or fourth attempt. The first time, unfamiliar with Carlos's greeting, was a disaster.  
_Hey it's Carlos the Scientist here..._ "Oh Hi Carlos, I am calling about..." _I'm sorry you have to speak to a machine, ugh I hate that you got my voicemail._ "...the lights you... oh." _But hey, please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I'm done with all this science! Ohwaitforthebeep._ Cecil smiled at the way Carlos's voice rose and trembled at the word _science!_ He rolled his eyes and tried to compose a coherent message.  
"Hi Carlos, the lights are nothing to worry about. Hey, you want to come out..."  
_press ONE to delete and re-record your message or simply hang up._  
"Hi Carlos, the lights were a one-off thing, totally safe. Call me if you want to talk more. About anything. It's Cecil, you know, from the radio. I'd lo..."  
_press ONE to delete and re-record your message or simply hang up._  
"Hi Carlos, it's Cecil from the radio. I mentioned the lights in my show tonight, maybe you're listening? Call me if you want me for anything.... scientific. Okbye." _Ugh, voicemail!_ Cecil rested his elbows on his desk and his head in his hands for a moment. Lovely Carlos did not call back, but he did at least text a cryptic message during the show to say _that is even worse than I imagined!_

Cecil did not encounter Carlos again but Intern Brad kept him informed. Cecil quietly fumed, but Brad was so good with Khoshekh that he kept his temper in check. On the day of Cecil's next show, Brad brought coffee unadorned with snippets about what Carlos had done or worn or whatever. Cecil noticed the lack of gossip by his fourth double espresso. As Brad set down the new cup and picked up the old one, Cecil frowned. "So, Brad, you have not mentioned Carlos today."  
Brad went red. "Uh, no, No I won't talk about him anymore. He, um, he noticed I was following him around and someone told the college principal. If I get reported again I'll be in trouble."  
Cecil almost regurgitated his coffee. "You've been _stalking_ him?"  
"No! It's not like that! I just wanted to... Ugh. Nobody Understands! I didn't mean any harm, I just wanted to... to be..." Intern Brad shrugged and hung his head.  
Cecil spluttered. "Friends! You wanted to be friends?"  
"Maybe a bit more. But he's not interested. He didn't say so himself, one of his team told me to get lost and not hang around the lab any more." Brad almost sobbed. "I didn't bother him much or ask him out or anything, but now I can't even go to Big Rico's any more!"  
Cecil patted Brad's shoulder. He thought for a moment. "Huh. And Carlos probably won't come near the radio station while there's a risk he might run into you." Cecil gripped Brad's shoulder, making the boy flinch. "Oh Fu--! What if Carlos thinks I _sent_ you to spy on him?" 

Brad escaped to the break room to sulk. Cecil slumped in his seat, hands over his face, shaking his head, muttering _oh no, oh no,_ over and over, and _gotta do something to sort this mess out!_ but his show was due to start and although the news mainly centred around some marketing campaign for Flaky-Os, Cecil had nothing much recorded in advance. Cecil stood and stretched. It wasn't something he wanted to bother Khoshekh about, after all Khoshekh seemed to _like_ Intern Brad. Cecil headed for the roof.  
Outside in the afternoon warmth, Cecil looked over the town. From his vantage point he could see out over the low-rise buildings to the sand wastes in one direction, the shiny office blocks in the main business district, and behind him the precipitous drop into the ravine behind the station building. It was quiet, the evening traffic just starting to push its way home to microwave dinners and barbecues and TV shows and squabbles over whose turn it was to do the homework.  
Lost in thought, Cecil stared over the railing protecting the unwary from the depths of the ravine. _Ugh, Carlos thinks I sent my intern to spy on him. Brad, how could you do this!? Shit, Carlos will never come to the station again. He'll probably avoid me completely. And it's all that idiot's fault! Ugh, Brad, you're as bad as Ste-e-eve... Ugh. Shit. What can I do to fix this?_  
Cecil didn't have an answer. He shivered as he watched a spiderwolf clamber across the opposite wall of the ravine and turned to go back inside. Passing above the front of the building, Cecil saw that the advertising pyramid in the Meditation Zone was even more imposing than it had been before, and hummed slightly whenever the police tasered it or fired their weapons ineffectually at its smooth surfaces. 

Cecil broadcast his show live, although he found it hard to concentrate. "You remember the deceitful barber..." _Mmhmmhmm this pyramid is a puzzle. Oh I bet it is scientific, I should call or text Carlos... No! No, you can't! Focus!_ "...if your cactus is in need of a haircut..."  
During Cecil's recorded advertising segment, Brad brought more coffee.  
"Hey, thanks for mentioning my carpentry skills!"  
Cecil smiled. "No problem! You any good at photography? Only now I've talked about Khoshekh so much I'd like to post some photos or maybe a video on my blog."  
Brad's face fell. "Uh, sorry Cecil. I had my phone confiscated by Station Management. Something about inappropriate photographs of a... scientific nature and bringing the station into disrepute."  
Cecil stared and scowled. "Inappropriate photos." Brad reddened and nodded. "Of a scientific nature." Brad gave a quiet _yup._ "Inappropriate photos of... a scientist?" Cecil almost growled and Brad fled.  
Cecil sighed and shook his head. He had a few seconds left. _Shit. I don't know whether to ask Station Management for a different intern or to ask to see Brad's phone._

Cecil was furious and struggling to keep his voice steady by the time he announced the _weather._  
He sprung from his seat, stormed into the break room, grabbed Brad by the arm and pulled him out of his beanbag. "You're coming with me."  
Brad started to protest but gave in when he saw the look in Cecil's eyes. Whatever penance Cecil had in mind for him, he was going to have to lump it. Cecil half-dragged Brad right out of the station building. Brad called to him, "Mr Palmer, sir, I can keep up if you just let me follow."  
"Meditation Zone. Pyramid. We're going to fix things right." Cecil stared ahead and did not speak to Brad again until they reached the Sheriff's Secret Police cordon around the base of the pyramid itself. Two officers moved to intercept Cecil.  
"Hold it, citizen!" Two hands reached for Cecil. Brad lagged behind.  
"Let 'im through!" An officer with more stripes and chevrons than strictly necessary yelled. "It's the Voice! I've seen 'im in action!" The over-decorated arms waved. "Best if y'all stand back."  
The two police officers looked at each other and shrugged. "Whatever you say, sarge. It's almost closing time at the _Kops Korner Café_ , the doughnuts will be on special offer. Who's with us?"  
Brad watched, mouth dropping open, as the Sheriff's Secret Police left just one unlucky officer on a nearby park bench, "To, y'know, be a presence in the community or something, sorry Ollie it's your turn," and wandered off in search of cheap carbs and caffeine. 

Cecil beckoned Brad over and took his hand. Together they completed a circuit of the base of the pyramid. Cecil crouched. "What do you see, Brad?"  
Brad crouched too, cheek to the dusty ground. "I see a gap, the pyramid is floating."  
"Huh. Thought so. You do understand, don't you?" Cecil sat back on his heels and frowned at his intern. Brad frowned back and shook his head. "The scientist. He can't be yours. Night Vale needs him to make the right choices. Night Vale needs this interloper to stay, not be so freaked out by some lust-struck teenager that he wants to leave."  
Brad scowled. "Hey, I'm almost twenty. So what if he's older than me? What business is it of yours anyway!"  
Cecil smiled, thin lipped and tight. "You are quite right, where you point your camera is your business. Come on, you're slim enough, if I tip up the edge of the pyramid maybe you can slip under and see if there is a power source or some other mechanism controlling it. If it grows much more, it'll take over the whole Meditation District."  
"Sure, whatever." Brad lay flat and squeezed inside. "What am I looking for? Oh! There's a little box and a cable."  
"Great!" Cecil stepped back and shouted. "Pull the cable out, that should fix everything."  
Cecil dived for cover as the pyramid suddenly shrank back into its original dimensions, with a muffled screaming noise, abruptly silenced. A few minutes later, Officer Ollie explained to his fellow officers that he had only turned his back for a moment and the huge pyramid had vanished only to be replaced by a much smaller version of itself embedded in a puddle of goo that slowly seeped into the ground. 

Cecil dusted off his suit and sat down. He put on his headphones and pulled the microphone towards him.  
"Well, listeners, it seems the pyramid has disappeared..."  
As soon as Cecil bade his listeners goodnight, he removed the headphones, flopped back in his swivel chair, rotated a few times and opened the studio door.  
"Brad? Brad! You still here? Where's my coffee?" 


End file.
